


Out of Time

by honeyrush



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, Fallout 4 - Freeform, M/M, Multi, maybe dillon francis?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 17:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10366041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyrush/pseuds/honeyrush
Summary: 210 years after the war they wake up from cryosleep.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello ok ive been working on this for the past few days and i have Faith in it so let's see if I can pull off this portgo with portgozo sprinkles

The last thing Hugo remembered was stepping into the cryo sleep pod and shutting his eyes. He remembers releasing his freshly washed and dried hair from a bun and pulling his oversized sweater up, then zipping it so it wouldn’t fall off.

He took off his glasses and slipped them in his pocket.

“See ya.” The scientist putting him in said, and that was all he heard before slipping away. 

Porter remembers putting on his jacket and stepping in, a groan leaving his lips as he felt the cold rush against his skin. He put on a beanie and tugged on his necklace he had made- it had wire that held a blueish purple crystal. Definitely a mix of sapphire and amethyst. He took off his black frames and put them in his bomber jacket’s pocket, and he knew that it was a mistake to get the jacket that barely fit him.

And he faded away.

But before the two fell asleep, they saw a mutual friend being kidnapped. 

He had messy dark brown hair that wasn’t really that long, and he had heavy stubble. He was extremely pale in that moment, probably because of fear.

Matan Zohar, more commonly known as Mat to them, was gone.  
210 years passed since then. Hugo still appeared as 22 and Porter still appeared as 24.

The two awakened on the same day in the fall of ‘87.  
October 23, 2287, that is.

Hugo was the first to wake up. He felt strangely empty.  
“I need to look around.” He told himself, stepping out of the pod only to see every pod having a skeleton in it but one. 

He looked in and saw a man who had hair to about his shoulder, a little under that. He had a bit of stubble, and he wore a beanie and a black bomber jacket that barely fit him along with incredibly faded out skinny jeans and black high-tops.

Hugo looked away quickly and began to search for  
things that could possibly keep him alive. Tripping over his own feet a few times, he found two guns and a dust-covered machine that woke up when he tapped it.

“Hello, you’re, uh, two centuries late for dinner… Hugo.” The robot said, and Hugo remembers him being like this before the war. Just as cheerful.

“Codsworth!” He jumped in joy as the floating robot looked around, before he came to his senses. “Two centuries? That’s 200 years.”

“Actually, you were in there for 210 years to be exact.”

The French boy gasps. “What?” He says, trying to process it.

“Mhm.” The robot replies as Hugo walked into a hallway. “Stay over here.” He says to the robot as he wanders into another large room scrambling to find something.

Looking through chests of things, he finds a bandana and a knife, then realizes that the chest he’s looking through was recently opened.

The brunette looks up and turns around as he hears footsteps. “Come out!” He yells. _What if it’s a zombie or something? Who would know what there is, it has been 210 years._

It thankfully wasn’t the undead, but it was another person. The same man Hugo saw earlier. 

“You.” He spat. The french man didn’t want this now, hell no. He just wanted to survive. “Look, this is how it’s gonna go. I’m gonna take all the food in this room and leave.”

The unnamed man laughs. “I’ve already got a backpack full of food. But I see you’ve got a weapon, hm?” He smirks. Placing the bag down, he inches closer to Hugo. “Give me one of your guns and you’ll escape unharmed. 

“Only if you give me some food.”

“Fuck no.” The man sneers, and they collide like the sun and the horizon at the end of a day.

Porter swings a fist at him, the other man cringing at the pain. Stepping back, he moved into a fighting stance and brought his fists up.

The taller man moved closer to his opponent, and proceeds to sweep Porter’s foot while he was distracted in trying to punch Hugo again. 

Porter falls to the ground and Hugo smiles, then pushing a foot into his back. “Done yet?”

“Nope. The shorter haired man forces himself up, knocking Hugo into a faded gray wall. The brunette lets out a moan before returning to reality and running to Porter, elbowing him in the stomach. He instantly falls back, face up.

Hugo takes out a gun from his back pocket and takes out a bullet he had found from his pocket. Climbing onto the other man, he straddles him and presses the cold, silver coloured gun against his hand -- which was pressed against the cold hard ground.

Porter has his hands in the formation that he would do as a surrender, something that he’d do if a cop came in and said “arms up”.

“We can end this right here, right now.” Hugo mutters, words coated in a thick French accent. “If you don’t give me the food I shoot you.”

“Why don’t we just team up?” Porter says, trembling in fear.

Hugo considers it for a moment, then he drops the gun. Getting off of him, he helps Porter up.

“The name’s Hugo. Hugo Leclercq.”

“Porter Robinson.”


End file.
